the stillness is falling
stretching
window to window
beneath the frog leaps
innocence
at the end of the wick

children used to play here

choked down
and full of lonely
sent by cave paintings
and fallen priests
bleeding
perhaps breathing

my princess used to pretend

baptized in black oil
a haunting
a hidden roar
between our skin
handwritten
in the raw mixture

now, we listen for the howl